


rising towards the sun

by shineyma



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Post-Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6727774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/pseuds/shineyma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a surprise in store for Grant (and Jemma) during his post-Union Station check-up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rising towards the sun

**Author's Note:**

> I started this FOREVER ago. Not even joking, the word doc for this fic was created on May 1, _2015_. It LITERALLY took me a year and a day to finish it. Which, considering how relatively short it is, probably says a lot about...something. Idk.
> 
> Also, this is a surprise crossover/fusion, but I don't _think_ you need to be familiar with the source material to understand it. I hope.
> 
> Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review!

As soon as the mess at Union Station is cleaned up, Grant is ordered to let Simmons look at him.

“Peterson threw you around like a rag doll,” Coulson says, dryly, when he tries to protest. “I can only imagine what John Garrett will have to say if I break you on your very first day. Simmons is team medic; let her take a look.”

So he does. She looks just as unhappy as he feels about it—“I’m a _biochemist_ , not a bloody physician,” she mutters under her breath—but gives him a half-hearted smile anyway.

“Are you…feeling any pain?” she asks, a little uncertainly, then rolls her eyes at herself. “I’m sorry, that’s pathetic. Of course you’re feeling pain, after being thrown about by a man with enhanced strength.” She smiles sheepishly. “It’s just that none of my field-med classes included training on bedside manner. I’m afraid I’m a bit lost.”

It’s an effort to hold back a returning smile; his cover would be uncomfortable in this situation, but for himself, Grant can’t help finding Simmons kind of hysterical.

“That’s okay.” He infuses his tone with the careful balance of awkward and friendly he drummed up specifically for this kind of situation. “SHIELD’s actual medics don’t have much in the way of bedside manner, either.”

There’s a little bit of implied insult there—it’s one thing for _her_ to point out she’s not a real medic, it’s something else entirely for him to do it—but Simmons is nice enough to ignore it, as expected.

“So I’m on the right track, then,” she says. “Good to know.” She takes a deep breath. “So, where are you injured?”

In the face of her expectant expression, not smiling gets even harder. Something about her puts him weirdly in mind of a very stern kitten; it’s kind of adorable.

“My ribs,” he answers, once he’s got his amusement reined in. “Think I might have cracked one.”

“Very well,” she says, and seems to steel herself. “Take off your shirt. Let’s have a look.”

There’s a flirtatious comment on the tip of his tongue; practice (and the pain of actually removing his shirt) lets him keep it back.

The look on Simmons’ face makes him forget it entirely.

“What?” he asks, looking down at himself in concern. He’s seen a pretty wide variety of reactions to his shirtless torso from women, but shocked horror’s a new one. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” she squeaks, and then clears her throat. “I mean, nothing. I just—I simply wasn’t expecting…” She makes a frustrated noise and then meets his eyes evenly. “I like your necklace.”

His…?

“Oh,” he says.

His necklace—four wooden beads on a strand of leather—isn’t visible to mortal eyes. It’s hidden under the Mist, which is the only way he can get away with wearing it; a necklace can be used as a weapon (well, anything can be used as a weapon) against its wearer, and in his line of work, it’s especially dangerous. Not to mention the whole it's-a-souvenir-from-his-time-at-a-secret-summer-camp thing. It doesn't exactly have Camp Half-Blood written anywhere, but the gorgon painted on the second bead, at least, would get him some serious second looks from mortals who know him as a practical, stick-in-the-mud specialist. That's the other reason wearing the necklace around mortals is such a risk; but hidden by the Mist as it is, it can only give him away to other demi-gods.

If Simmons can see it…

“Let me guess,” he says.  “Cabin Six?”

“Four, actually,” she corrects, with a little smile. It’s a surprise—he definitely would have pegged a former child prodigy as a daughter of Athena—but he guesses it makes sense for a daughter of Demeter to go into Natural Sciences. “And you’re Cabin Five?”

Easy guess. He knows he’s got ‘son of Ares’ written all over him, cover or no cover. Although his skill at lying did make him some pretty great friends among Hermes’ kids back in the day.

“Yeah,” he says. He does a quick bit of mental math; he was fifteen, the last summer he spent at Camp, which—considering her September birthday—would’ve made her ten. He wasn’t exactly hanging around the younger kids (or anyone, really), so it’s totally possible he just didn’t notice her, but… “How old were you?”

“Twelve, the first time,” she says. “But I didn’t stay long. Too busy with uni.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, reminiscing can wait, I think. Let me see your ribs.”

Her bedside manner might need some work, but in practice, she’s solid. He finds himself regretting the latex gloves she’s wearing; he thinks he’d like her hands on him without that barrier.

Grant can admit that he’s always had a little bit of the demi-god arrogance Chiron so frowns on. He doesn’t think he can be blamed for it—come on, they go around calling normal people _mortals_ ; he’d like to see any teenage boy not have that go to his head at least a little…not to mention the fact that it was something that set him apart from Christian, something that made him _better_ —but he knows it’s kind of a flaw.

It’s not one he’s been able to shake, though. Which is why it’s not a surprise to realize that discovering Simmons is a half-blood makes her more attractive to him. (His sisters used to laugh at him for it, for his complete disinterest in mortals—Susan called him a snob and hit him when he rolled his eyes over her stories about her mortal boyfriend.)

(He hasn’t talked to any of his siblings in years. He doesn’t even know why he still wears the necklace.)

As she pokes at his side, he finds himself watching Simmons, tracing the curve of her jaw with his eyes, examining the fall of her hair. She’s a gorgeous woman, really.

“Well, nothing’s broken,” she tells him, stripping her gloves off. “Your ribs and back are rather badly bruised, however. You’re lucky you were wearing that jacket; without it, I do believe we’d be here all night pulling glass from your back.” She gestures to the cabinets along the right wall. “There are ice packs and painkillers in the third cabinet, there; you can help yourself as your pain demands.”

“Thanks,” he says, and rolls his shoulders. Then he hesitates, making sure to make it visible, as he tries to decide what to say next.

He wants her.

And that’s not just desire, it’s practical. Even aside from the whole half-blood thing—even aside from the way it feels like he’s spent this whole day holding back a smile because of her (she called it a _journey into mystery_ , for Ares’ sake, what is Grant supposed to do with that?)—she’d go a hell of a long way to cementing his position on the team.

Dating him would increase her trust in him—her attachment to him—and Fitz would come with her. Coulson, he thinks, is exactly the type to be amused by Grant’s cover’s fumbling attempts at romance, and May…

Well, she’s a hard one to pin down. He’ll have to give it some time, get her measure.

Relations with three of his four team members will be improved by starting something with Simmons. It will also probably make his time here a lot more bearable.

The question, though, is how to make it happen. Aside from _slowly_ , of course—his cover isn’t exactly the type to come right out and asking a woman to date him, especially so soon after meeting her.

Luckily, she’s already given him a great opening—an opening that also doubles as a chance to get some more information on her. Her file didn’t mention that she was a half-blood (not surprising since, as far as he knows, SHIELD doesn’t even know the Greek gods are still a thing, let alone that they’ve got hundreds of kids running around, living mortal lives), which means there are a _lot_ of blanks in it. If he wants to know how to work her, he’s gonna have to fill those blanks in.

“So,” he says, tentatively. “About that reminiscing…I’ve got time now. If you want.”

She blinks, obviously surprised that he’s following up on what was probably only meant to be a quick segue. Once she recovers from that surprise, though, she hits him with a smile bright enough to blind.

“I’d like that,” she says, pleased, and he allows himself a small smile in return.

He’s pretty sure this is gonna be easy—and, either way, he _knows_ it’s gonna be fun.


End file.
